I shift closer, instinct tightening my muscles, my senses sharpening.
Aura turns in a slow circle, taking in the bodies pressed together on the dance floor, the glittering chandeliers overhead, the way sweat and perfume and alcohol swirl into something heady and intoxicating in the air.
"This is amazing," she whispers.
I exhale slowly. "That’s one word for it."
She grins at me then, a smile of pure excitement, pure energy, something innocent despite the decadence surrounding her.
I shake my head. No good can come from this. Aura thinks her curse is something she can outrun, but we can’t pin so much on a baseless theory. I should drag her out of here before something bad happens.
But I don’t.
Because against all my instincts, I want to see what she does next.
And that is dangerous.
The lights in the bar pulse, then vanish.
Darkness swallows the room, cutting through the heat and noise like a blade.
Adrenaline surges through my muscles, instincts roaring to the surface as I prepare myself to fight, to rip through whatever danger is about to emerge from the dark.
Next to me, Aura steps closer. Her hands close around my jacket-clad arm as her breath hitches.
Awhumpfsound cracks through the silence, as a single spotlight explodes to life.
A blast of shimmering cobalt-blue powder explodes in the air, a storm of enchanted stardust. The air clears, leaving a figure standing on the platform beneath the lantern-lit tree.
The spotlight expands, revealing a man with a strong, heavy jaw in a top hat, his sapphire coattails draped over a bare chest.
“Good evening, my wicked little deviants!” The man’s voice is velvet-laced. “Tonight, I am your host and emcee, Geanie. Welcome to theonlybar in Boston where the drinks are potent, the women are deadly, and inhibitions are checked at the door.”
This Geanie character strikes me as a ringmaster of some wicked circus.
“We all know why you’re here,” he continues with a sly smile. “To drink. To forget. To sin.” A ripple of cheers surges through the crowd. “And no one serves up sin better than ourLost Girls.”
The bassdrops.
A light hits the other side of the bar, revealing a petite girl with twilight-colored skin that gleams under the blue light. Her white hair is braided through with countless tiny silver hoops.
The girl is ethereal beneath the shifting lights, with tattoos winding like frost patterns up her slender arms and down the exposed length of her abdomen. Leather clings tight to her hips, hugging her curves as she moves forward, her fishnet-covered legs stepping with choreographed ease.
“Our girl Snow is happy to help you reprobates with your boozing needs.” A cheer goes up. “This Lost Girl might seem as sweet as freshly driven snow, but don’t let appearances fool you.”
Snow flicks her electric blue gaze around the bar, then reaches casually to scoop up a bottle. She spins it expertly between her fingers before tossing it high into the air, not bothering to watch its twirling descent. She catches it effortlessly behind her back, one delicate brow lifting in silent challenge.
“Petite as a pixie and twice as wicked, Snow will freeze your heart with a glance and coat your throat with an equally cold cocktail.”
The entire crowd is hers now, their collective breath suspended in awe, the air thick with anticipation.
Geanie’s voice lowers into something conspiratorial. “But beware, my friends. She can set fire in the most unexpected of places.”
She pours a glittering stream of liquor into her mouth straight from the bottle, head tilted back, eyes closed. With a teasing smirk, she swallows and raises the bottle again, this time tipping it toward the cheering crowd, a shimmering cascade of liquid raining down like an offering. They all open their mouths, welcoming the free pour passing by.
Snow tosses the bottle upward again in a high, spinning arc. It soars through the air, tumbling toward a waiting hand.
It lands effortlessly in the grasp of another woman poised high on a platform. The spotlight illuminates the new Lost Girl in a turquoise glow.
